


Interconnected References

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Assassin AU [7]
Category: Transformers – Aligned Continuity Family, Transformers – All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe – Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe – Detectives, Camp Nanowrimo (July 2019), Cannot Spit It Out, Canon Soup, Communication, Conspiracies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Detailing/Polishing (Transformers), Established Relationship, Family, Hacking, Implied/Referenced Nonconsensual Mind Alteration, Implied/Referenced Shadowplay, Kissing, NaNoWriMo 2019, Nightmares, Not Hacking People Though, Parents, Quickshadow Needs More Love, Relationship(s), Role Reversal, Siblings, Training, What even is canon?, assassination plots, lateral thinking, lying by omission, talking about things like adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Prowl's creator comes to Altihex to take over Jazz's training, and the investigation into Senator Ratbat continues. The investigation reveals a conspiracy that may run deeper than Jazz and Prowl expected, and yield far more danger.
Relationships: Prowl & Quickshadow, Prowl & Smokescreen, Prowl & Smokescreen & Quickshadow, Prowl/Jazz
Series: Assassin AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1208658
Comments: 43
Kudos: 81





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assassin!Prowl is based on the [War for Cybertron/Aligned version of Prowl](https://tfwiki.net/mediawiki/images2/7/72/ProwlTFU.JPG) only sometimes some aspects of [G1 Cartoon Prowl](https://tfwiki.net/mediawiki/images2/7/70/G1_Prowl_Bluestreak_Rollforit.jpg) get merged with him in my head. (WFC body, '84 G1 face.) I usually default to the cartoon for visuals because it had a substantial impact on bitty!Hours.

### Shortly after [_A Transfer of Skills_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899336)

Until fairly recently, Jazz of Altihex had been living a safe, quiet life as a forensic accountant working with the Enforcers. It had been a reasonably quiet, steady job until he'd gotten involved in an investigation into the local branch of the Praxian mob. Apparently afraid of what he'd find, Barricade, the local mob boss had hired Prowl, an assassin who covered his tracks so well he was a sort of urban legend, to kill Jazz. Prowl, legendarily ethical, had chosen to decline the contract and warn Jazz instead and then – bizarrely, _wonderfully_ – had coaxed Jazz into a relationship with him.

Admittedly, it hadn't taken much coaxing. Once Jazz had gotten over the shock of their first couple of meetings, he had been extremely aware of just how attractive Prowl was.

Prowl had approached Jazz, expressed interest in him, wanted to know if that interest might be returned, and promised to stay away entirely if that was what Jazz wanted. Jazz probably should have told the assassin to stay away. He hadn't. But Jazz still hadn't been comfortable with the idea of his lover killing people, and so Prowl had simply stopped. For Jazz. They'd opened a business together as private investigators, which Prowl referred to as a transfer of skills.

Well, Prowl had made the decision and Jazz had agreed to it. He _hadn't_ been happy, and he _hadn't_ really wanted to keep doing what he was doing. Oh, he might have planned to change careers, thought about it, daydreamed…but he'd probably never have actually done it. Prowl tended to sweep people along with him, blithely assuming they'd follow and not providing a lot of information. That had been what Jazz needed when they started dating. But now, both as business partners and as their relationship progressed, it was beginning to become a bit much. Jazz needed his lover to be more open with him, to consult him more and not try to just carry him along.

Jazz was trying to think of a way to bring it up, not because he was afraid of Prowl's reaction but because he wanted to bring it up naturally. Jazz absolutely hated to be approached with anything like the phrase 'we need to talk,' and he wanted to avoid it. Fortunately, an opportunity presented itself when Jazz was putting together the invoice for the work they'd done so far for their first client.

Prowl had found the client, so Jazz naturally went to him to get the data to complete and generate the invoice. Prowl readily handed over a very complete record of his billable hours, but he held back the client's name, address, and contact information.

"Don't worry about it," Prowl said airily, leaning back in his desk chair and looking up at Jazz. "Leave it with me, I'll fill it in before I send it to them."

Jazz paused for a moment, thinking. This was an excellent example of Prowl holding back information, it was an opportunity to speak to him about it, and it gave Jazz a solid case to discuss. Finally, Jazz said, firmly, "no."

"'No' you won't worry about it or 'no' you won't leave it with me?"

"Both. Okay, babe?" Jazz grabbed the other chair from the opposite side of Prowl's desk and pulled it around so he could sit across from Prowl. "I get there's some stuff you can't tell me about work you've done in the past, and that's fine." Plus, he kind of liked having a lover with a mysterious past, but this wasn't the time to bring that up. "I know that the client is someone you've worked with before, and you probably can't tell me everything about them. But this?" Jazz tapped the tablet displaying the partially-filled invoice. "This is stuff I _need_ to know, even if it's just on a business level. What happens if we get audited? It's going to look weird if your partner," he used undertones meaning 'business' and 'romantic' partner both, "doesn't know the name of our first client. Especially since I'm doing the finances."

"I'm not accustomed to having to share information," Prowl said, sounding reluctant.

"I know, but you need to be honest with me if this is going to work," Jazz made sure it was clear he meant both the business and their relationship.

Prowl looked decidedly discontented when Jazz said that, as if life without Jazz wasn't something he wanted to think about. Jazz had the sudden thought, ' _I'm not a toy,'_ which wasn't something he'd even consciously known he was concerned about.

"Jazz, there are some things you may not want to know," Prowl told him, "and I've no idea what those might be."

"Then _ask_ me," Jazz said gently. "You're right, there probably are some things I don't want to know but _talk_ to me about it. Don't decide for me, don't – look, lying by omission, even if you think it's for my own good, or my protection or whatever, it's got to stop. You've never lied to me directly, and I need you not to do it indirectly either. Okay?"

"Yes, Jazz," Prowl said, unusually serious, looking into Jazz's visor. "If you wish it, if this is one of your boundaries, I will comply."

"Okay. Good, thank you. Yes, it's a boundary." Prowl had a very different set of boundaries from anyone else Jazz knew. But while he sometimes needed to have Jazz's explained, he respected them once he understood what they were. "And yeah," Jazz continued, "sometimes we're going to have conflicting boundaries and wants and needs, but when that happens, we'll talk about it. Okay?"

Prowl nodded, still carefully watching Jazz. Jazz wondered if this was the expression Prowl had worn after he'd provisionally accepted the contract on Jazz's life: focused and intent. He was definitely listening, though, and that – that was good.

"I understand," Prowl told him. "I wanted only to keep you safe, make you feel secure, but it seems I did the opposite."

"I know you want me to be safe," Jazz assured him. "I get that, and I get you're used to playing it close to the chest plates. But I need you to bring me in on things instead, let me make my own decisions. You've got to trust me."

"I do trust you. I do," Prowl repeated, reaching out and lightly taking Jazz's hands in his. "I didn't intend for you to think otherwise, and I apologize that I did so."

Prowl sounded more than a little like he was reciting the words by rote, but his undertones were sincere and matched his body language. Prowl just not being used to saying things like that made more sense to Jazz than Prowl merely saying what he thought Jazz wanted to hear.

"I know you didn't, and it's why I'm not upset, not really. It's okay." Jazz squeezed Prowl's hands, hoping he was reassuring enough. "It's why we talked about it, right?"

"I talked about it because you wished to and because I need you to be happy. It isn't something I'm accustomed to doing." Prowl frowned slightly and added, "and I'm not sure I like the way it makes me feel."

"I know," Jazz said sympathetically. "I don't feel great having these conversations – I don't think anyone does. They're just…necessary."

"Well, I am certainly familiar with having to do things that are unpleasant but necessary," Prowl said, relaxing in a way that made it clear he'd put this new thing into a familiar context. With Prowl, 'familiar' more likely than not meant 'murder-y,' but Jazz would take it.

"See, the details of what exactly you mean by that?" Jazz said. "They're the kind of things I'm pretty sure I'm happier if I _don't_ know."

"I expect you are, yes." Prowl bent forward, lifted Jazz's hands and kissed them, lips warm against Jazz's fingers. "I want to be with you, lover. If this helps ensure it, then I'll do it for you – and I _am_ happy to see you becoming more confident."

"Thank you, baby. Don't forget," Jazz added, "this goes for me too. I have to talk to you and negotiate with you just as much as you have to talk to and negotiate with me. Alright?"

"Yes, Jazz." Prowl let go of Jazz's hands and picked up the tablet with the invoice, then paused and looked at his lover. "Was there more?" he asked, sounding sincere. Jazz got the feeling Prowl was testing the ground between them, that this was something new to him. Jazz appreciated the effort.

"No, we're good. Back to work. The client is - ?"

"Quickshadow of Tetrahex," Prowl replied, and gave Jazz the contact information and address to enter. "She's currently off-planet, which is why she asked me to find someone to look into this. She is not a former client," he continued, showing he'd taken what Jazz had said about 'lying by omission' to spark, "she is my creator. Mine and my siblings'."

"So from the outside, this won't just look like a vanity business a wealthy mech started for his lover, it'll also look like a vanity business a wealthy mech started for his lover and had bankrolled by his creator?" Jazz frowned, not disapprovingly but thoughtfully. "That's a decent cover."

"It is," Prowl agreed, then returned to the subject at hand. "If you want to talk about Creator, I will. There may be things I can't tell you, however, either because I promised her I wouldn't or because I don't know myself."

And Prowl probably didn't know how to handle that in light of the new paradigm they'd just agreed to, Jazz guessed.

"Okay, those are the kinds of things we'd talk about, well, talking about," Jazz assured him. "I'm okay with you saying 'I can't tell you about that because…' as long as there's a reason. I just don't want to be left in the dark or left to guess all the time."

Prowl nodded. "I'd like to do this all in one attempt," he said. "But as the office is open to the public, are you willing to wait until we get home – either your home or mine?"

"We can talk about it later, then," Jazz told him. "That's okay too." He saved the invoice and subspaced the tablet, then leaned over and kissed Prowl. "Got to get back to work, babe, but we'll talk at home tonight, okay?"

"This isn't an attempt to dig into the surely deeply traumatic past that drove me to become an assassin, is it?" Prowl asked. He didn't quite sound like he was teasing, and that suggested something about past relationships to Jazz.

Jazz shook his head. "Uh-uh. Babe, I don't think trauma's got anything to do with it. You kill people because it pays well, and you're good at it, and that's it."

"Just so," Prowl said, looking pleased with Jazz's conclusion. "Does that bother you?"

"It should," Jazz admitted truthfully. "It doesn't. I mean, I always knew that you're dangerous, Prowler."

"Yes, but I am not dangerous to you," Prowl told him, looking up at him earnestly. "Never you, my Jazz."

Jazz bent down, and kissed him again, chaste and very gentle. "Now _there's_ something you _didn't_ need to tell me."


	2. Chapter One

### Present Day, Post-[Workspace](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/17112215)

A change of career from forensic accountant to private investigator hadn't changed the amount of data work Jazz had to do by very much. If anything, he had _more_. Despite that, and despite having been threatened by mob muscle a deca-cycle earlier, he still preferred this to what he'd been doing before. After all, it wasn't as if he'd been totally safe working as a forensic accountant, either: some of his work was worrying enough to the local branch of the Praxian mob that they'd put a hit out on him.

Jazz had been hit on, alright. Prowl was hot, charming, and magnetic. Jazz hadn't been able to resist, hadn't even seriously considered turning Prowl in for his murders, even though he knew – he _knew_ – that he should. Not only because murder was wrong but because Jazz had worked closely with law enforcement throughout his career and knew it was his responsibility. Of course, as Prowl was fond of saying, none of the people he'd killed were very _nice_ mecha. Jazz had gotten a small taste of that on a recent case when Prowl had been hired to look into a murder _he'd committed_. It sounded simple enough, but when Jazz had looked into the data, he'd found the info that had gotten him threatened by mob muscle. Prowl had prevented Jazz from being harmed, _without_ killing, then taken the severely shocked mech home, treated him for the shock, and cared for him attentively. Prowl had been shaken as well, but he'd seemed to come to terms with it much more quickly, promising to give Jazz the tools he'd need to defend himself better in future. Jazz now had lessons in codebreaking, hacking, and cyber-security courtesy of the incredibly paranoid Red Alert, the security expert who had taught Prowl. Prowl taught him weapons handling, firearms, and kept up the self-defence lessons he'd been giving Jazz since not long after they'd begun dating. Prowl's brother, Smokescreen, had started joining them for those lessons so Jazz could learn to handle multiple opponents. It…tended to put Jazz on edge, not because it was Smokescreen but because of the reminder. Jazz being on edge put Prowl on edge as well. Prowl had more than once called a halt to lessons to let everyone de-stress a little bit.

That day had been one of those lessons that ended with a de-stressing period, and that was probably why, that night, Jazz woke up out of recharge in Prowl's bed, fuel pump pounding like he was mid-way through a race and his spark spinning fast. Trying to calm himself, he did a quick survey of his surroundings: a bedroom seemingly half the size of his entire apartment, check; luxurious bed, check; sleeping former assassin, check. Beside him, Prowl was soundly under, even his biolights dimmed in recharge, in the process of encroaching on Jazz's pillow. Jazz's systems were running too hot for him to get back to sleep, and not in a fun way. Jazz got up quietly – Prowl didn't stir, a measure of trust that would have touched Jazz at any other time – and went downstairs, pacing the length of the first floor and back. He checked the security system twice, even though he'd _seen_ Prowl engage it when they'd gotten home that night. He knew it was safe, but he still had to check, to be sure.

Even though Prowl had been soundly asleep, he eventually woke and came downstairs to check on Jazz. It had been a while since Jazz had gotten up in the middle of the night and been gone more than a breem or so. Jazz wondered if it were some kind of proximity sensor or being able to actually steal Jazz's pillow for once that had woken his lover.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Jazz apologized as Prowl came over. "I just, well…"

"You had a nightmare?" Prowl guessed, reaching out to him. Jazz went into his arms willingly, wanting the comfort of his lover's presence, and nodded. He still hadn't ditched the feeling of being hunted he'd had in the dream. One of Prowl's hands splayed across his back, the other arm secure around his waist. "Your fuel pump is still fast."

"Yeah. Can't quite shake it," Jazz admitted, leaning into Prowl.

"It can be difficult to dismiss a dream like that," Prowl agreed. He stroked Jazz's back, his hand warm and sure. "What may I do to help you?"

"What you're doing right now is good." Jazz rested his hands on Prowl's hips, thumbs rubbing little circles on the armour. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, my Jazz."

"The first time you were threatened, what did you do? After it was all over."

"I threw myself into training, into learning, into working to make sure that I could stop any threat that came near me and mine again."

"Huh." Jazz put his arms around Prowl's waist. That probably shouldn't be as reassuring as it was. "Glad I'm one of yours."

Prowl leaned his cheek affectionately against the side of Jazz's helm.

"More that I am yours," Prowl said fondly. "I know this hasn't been easy for you, but when you wake in the night, remember that the most dangerous thing near you is _me,_ and I will never harm you. I'm entirely devoted to," Jazz thought he caught the briefest of pauses, "your safety. Remember also that even though the lessons are difficult, you're doing very well. I'm confident you could hold your own, especially if you have an energon dagger with you."

That, almost as much as the promise of Prowl's protection, made Jazz feel much better. He fully relaxed into Prowl's embrace, let the former assassin hold him close. "Thanks, babe."

* * *

Two mega-cycles after Jazz's most recent nightmare, Prowl sat him down on the long couch in Prowl's living room with the attitude of someone who had something they wanted to say. Jazz was briefly reminded of the time his creators – mostly his Sator – had sat him down to convince him to drop music lessons in favour of studying 'something more stable.' Jazz, wanting to please his creators, had done it. He regretted it. He'd dreaded having these conversations ever since, even though, as he'd told Prowl, sometimes they were necessary. Still…

Prowl, picking up on his mood, lifted one of his hands and kissed the back tenderly. "Don't look like that, sweet thing. I want to ask you about something that might help you progress in your self-defence training."

"Okay," Jazz said slowly. This was the kind of thing he'd asked Prowl to do, after all. When they'd first met, Prowl would have just done whatever he was thinking of doing and dropped it on Jazz without warning. It wasn't Prowl's fault Jazz was reacting to an unhappy memory either. "Go on."

"I've had a message from my creator," Prowl began. " She's coming back planet-side, and she wants to spend some time in Altihex visiting with Smokescreen and us. I thought of asking her to take over your training as she's the one who taught me self-defence. If you would be alright with her doing so, of course."

"Well, yeah, I guess," Jazz answered, a little puzzled. He'd thought Prowl would teach him everything. "But why?"

Prowl's attention focused, briefly, on Jazz's left shoulder. Jazz had gotten dented during practice the other day. Nothing big, his self-repair had taken care of it in a couple of cycles, but Jazz's lessons were getting more intense, and it probably wouldn't be the last dent he took. Jazz got it, but…

"It was just a little dent, babe," Jazz pointed out. "I've had worse. I mean, you've left bite marks that lasted longer."

Prowl liked to bite during interface; Jazz had been surprised to find out that he enjoyed being bitten and gave Prowl permission to do so more often than he'd ever thought he would. Usually, Prowl bit where the marks wouldn't be terribly visible, but there had been a couple of more apparent bites. Jazz had wavered between worrying what people would think if they noticed and being proud to have people know he wore his lover's marks. He'd ended up landing on proud, still not quite sure how that had happened.

"That's not done in violence," Prowl pointed out, optics falling unerringly on where his most recent bite had been. He stroked his lover's arm. "Your training will become more intense, you will be more likely to take injury and – I can't be the one to inflict it. I don't like seeing the damage, either, but I understand it's part of the lessons."

"Sounds like I've got to work harder on the 'don't get hit' lesson," Jazz joked. Prowl managed a small smile. "Okay, Prowler, go ahead and ask your creator to take over. I just hope she likes me."

"Of course she will, darling," Prowl said confidently. He put Jazz's arm around his shoulders and snuggled against his lover's side, head on Jazz's shoulder. "So, when are you going to introduce me to _your_ creators, lover?"

Jazz tried to picture it.

"Oh, Primus."

* * *

Jazz got to stop picturing his own meeting with Prowl's creator a few mega-cycles later. Prowl had been out of their office for the afternoon, performing surveillance on someone for a client, so Jazz hadn't seen him since midday. Prowl had sent the obligatory check-in pings over their encrypted comms, of course, but other than that, they had had no contact. Without Prowl coming in to distract him, Jazz had been able to get a lot of work done, especially on their major case, the investigation of Senator Ratbat. He could have done more but, more actively trying to break his habit over overworking himself, had left some for tomorrow. Besides trying to be less of a workaholic, Jazz wanted to see his lover again, even though they hadn't been apart more than a few cycles. He'd missed Prowl coming in to steal kisses, feed him treats, or just make sure he got up and moved around. Jazz was sure Prowl would more than make it up to him that evening, though. He hoped so anyway: Prowl's creator was coming to visit starting tomorrow to train Jazz in self-defence, surveillance, and evasion techniques for at least a deca-cycle and who knew how much time they'd have together for the next while?

Jazz made only one stop on his way over to Prowl's to pick up some treats his lover enjoyed. He was in the elevator in Prowl's building, on his way up to Prowl's apartment when his lover commed him.

' _Hey, babe,_ ' Jazz said as he accepted it. ' _What's up? I'm almost there. Oh, and I brought home some of those iced silica wafers from that place you like.'_

' _We have an unexpected guest_ ,' Prowl informed him.

And, a guest? Prowl's creator was due in town, but not today, and Prowl hadn’t had a guest over since Jazz had known him. They usually went out when they were social, and a couple of times had had dinners or movie nights with friends at Jazz’s place. Jazz's living room could be a little cramped, but again, Prowl's apartment was a safe house and the fewer mecha who knew where to find him, the better. It was even more unusual for Prowl to let someone into his apartment when he hadn't expected them. Maybe it was one of his siblings? Whoever they were, at least if Prowl had allowed them in Jazz knew they were safe.

' _Oh yeah?_ ' Curious, Jazz left the elevator and crossed the hall to their – to _Prowl's_ door. ' _Smokescreen? Or did your creator show up early?_ '

' _The latter. Do come in, lover, she wants to meet you._ '

Oh. Oh, frag. Jazz gave himself a quick once-over before he palmed open the door. There were a few scratches in his paint here and there, but everyone had those, they were just normal wear-and-tear. It wasn't as if he were in desperate need of a detailing, and he'd hit the washracks that morning. He was as presentable as anyone could expect a working mech to be at the end of the mega-cycle.

' _Okay, well, I guess I'm ready._ ' This wasn't how Jazz had expected to meet Prowl's creator, but when had anything ever gone the way he expected when it came to Prowl? _'I'm coming in now._ '

_'We're in the living room._ '

In the living room, Prowl was standing next to a white-and-blue mech with the most perfect posture Jazz had ever seen. She had winglets on her back, not as big as Prowl's doors, and intelligent blue optics taking his measure from behind a translucent blue visor. Jazz hadn't been slouching, but under that keenly intelligent gaze, he straightened a little more.

"Welcome back, darling," Prowl said, holding out a hand and tugging Jazz in closer when he took it. "This is my creator, Quickshadow. Creator, this is Jazz."

"Delightful to meet you, Jazz," Quickshadow said crisply, holding out a hand for him to shake. Her grip was strong and confident – Jazz wasn't surprised. "I'm looking forward to helping you train."

"I'm pleased to meet you, too," Jazz said automatically. "Prowl said you're going to teach me surveillance and evasion techniques, as well as some more advanced self-defence?"

"Yes. More precisely, I'm going to train you to survive." Quickshadow let his hand go and paced over to look out the balcony doors – rocket-proof, mirrored on the outside so you couldn't see inside – and over the city. She clasped her hands behind her back. "Prowl told me about the incident that occurred after your research into the Halex Corporation was discovered. There is, unfortunately, equal risk in your investigation into Senator Ratbat. You were fortunate; Prowl was able to get there and handle things. He may not be close enough next time. Your communications might be jammed, you might not see the tail, or not see it in time to successfully evade it. I'll teach you to handle all of that, just as I taught Prowl."

"Prowl's taught me plenty already," Jazz offered. He had the feeling that he wasn't up to Quickshadow's standards yet, though. Probably not even close, trained by her creation or not.

Prowl wrapped his arms around Jazz from behind and dropped a kiss on his windshield. "Yes, and you're doing very well, lover. But again, there is a risk of injury - not seriously, just dents and scratches and maybe a broken window – and I would hesitate before hurting you, which a true opponent, or Creator, will not."

"Yes, exactly. I don't know if you've had any self-defence training before the training Prowl gave you." Quickshadow said, twisting to look at them over her shoulder. "Prowl said you were connected to the Enforcers. An accountant, as I recall."

"I am," Jazz answered. "I mean, I was. Forensic accounting. Ah, did Prowl tell you how we met?"

"Yes," she said crisply. "Barricade. A nasty bit of work, that."

Jazz had no time to wonder if she was referring to Barricade or the proposed hit that had led to Prowl and Jazz meeting. Quickshadow spun neatly on her heel and marched over to them, looking Jazz smartly up and down. Jazz had the strong urge to stand at attention, and probably would have if Prowl hadn't been wrapped around him. Although when he thought about it, he realized that might be one of the reasons _why_ Prowl was wrapped around him.

"We shall begin your training immediately," Quickshadow announced. "Smokescreen is expecting us at Incendium for dinner. I will track you there, and you will attempt to evade me."

"But…" Prowl had been teaching him how to avoid a tail, but Jazz hadn't yet been able to avoid Prowl, and he doubted he'd do better with Prowl's creator.

"If you're alright going out to dinner tonight, of course," Prowl said, looking pointedly at his creator. "It wasn't what we had planned."

Prowl had been working hard on not just sweeping Jazz along with whatever he wanted though there had been a little bit of a rocky start since he was so used to doing so. Speaking with Quickshadow now made it very clear where Prowl had picked up _that_ particular, overbearing, habit.

"Yeah – I mean, yes, that's fine."

"Of course it is." Quickshadow clapped her hands briskly, twice. "Time is wasting, Jazz, come along then, spit-spot."

Prowl kissed Jazz affectionately but briefly on the lips before disengaging from him. "Go on, lover. We'll be right behind you."

Yeah, that was kind of what Jazz was worried about. There was no _way_ he wasn't going to fail this test! But he left Prowl's apartment anyway and did his best not to be followed, fully expecting either Prowl or Prowl's creator to appear in his rear-view at any moment.

And they did, of course. Three times.

When they arrived at Incendium, Quickshadow greeted him with, "a decent attempt for a beginner. At least you made different mistakes each time. That's promising." She spotted her other creation. "Ah, Smokescreen! Come here and let me look you over."

"Are you alright?" Prowl asked Jazz quietly, leaning in close, while his creator greeted his sibling. "Creator can be intense."

Coming from _Prowl_ of all mecha, that nearly made Jazz laugh at what was probably an inappropriate time.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a little off-balance," Jazz murmured back instead. "I can tell you learned everything you know from her. Is she going to debrief me over the appetizers or something?"

There was the softest of apologetic sighs in Jazz's audial. "Most likely."

'Most likely' turned out to be a firm 'yes.' Everything Jazz had done was thoroughly gone over, and he had to offer up suggestions as to what he could have done better. It felt like being at school again – not university, the one for juveniles – and the boring classroom parts instead of the fun socialization parts at that.

' _It's a lot, I know,'_ Prowl commed him part-way through, ' _but she really is a good teacher. Unless you want me to ask her to stop?_ '

"Prowl," Quickshadow said sternly. "No comms at the dinner table. You know the rules."

"I'm checking in with Jazz," Prowl said calmly. "In case he wants your questioning of him to stop."

"I'm quite sure Jazz is capable of speaking for himself, Prowl," Quickshadow reprimanded him.

"Between you and Prowl, he's more likely to feel like he's caught in a vice," Smokescreen put in. "This isn't how normal 'meet the creator' dinners are supposed to go. Jazz didn't have the same sort of early life we did, he isn't expecting it. Back down, at least for now, you can come back to it later."

Thanks to Smokescreen's intercession, Quickshadow eased off the grilling on evasion techniques and started asking Jazz about himself. Now that he'd had exposure to Quickshadow, Jazz could see where Prowl got a lot of his, well, _Prowl-ness_ from. It was just that, when it came to Jazz, it tended to be tempered by affection. (Well, and lust if Jazz was being honest. Not that those feelings weren't reciprocated.) Jazz didn't think Quickshadow _dis_ liked him at all, though. It felt more like she regarded him as something she could best understand by taking it apart. Jazz had met the creators and mentors of former lovers before, and they'd all asked him questions about himself, but it hadn't felt nearly so much like a job interview as this did.

"Ah. Yes, of course. You'll forgive me for asking so many questions, I hope, Jazz," Quickshadow said briskly. "I've just been ever so curious about you. You're not – well, to put it bluntly, you're not Prowl's usual sort."

"Precisely," Prowl said fondly. He picked up Jazz's hand and kissed it. "Don't let her scare you off, lover."

Quickshadow might be intense, but Jazz had faced far scarier things than a protective creator since he'd met Prowl. Jazz leaned over and kissed the corner of Prowl's mouth. "I'm not going anywhere, Prowler."

"Speaking of not being Prowl's usual sort, how did you convince him to change professions?" Quickshadow asked. "I had thought you quite enjoyed what you were doing, Prowl."

"I did," Prowl replied, blasé as always about murder, another trait he shared with his creator. "I asked Jazz if he wanted to walk away from me – this was very early on, of course." It had been their first date, so very early indeed. "He said, 'What if I said I want you to walk away from what you do? If I said that was the price to be with me?'" Prowl smiled at Jazz in that way that made his fuel pump pick up and his spark spin faster. "I decided it was not too high a price to pay and so paid it gladly."

"Well." Quickshadow sat back, optic ridges raised. "That is a surprise."

"That was a huge thing to ask, Jazz," Smokescreen added. "I hope you appreciate – "

"It was a hypothetical," Prowl pointed out. "He didn't actually give me an ultimatum."

"But – "

"That's enough of that," Quickshadow said, sitting forward and shutting down the about-to-erupt sibling argument. "Smokescreen, Prowl, take it up with each other later."

"I appreciate what Prowl did, Smokescreen," Jazz said quietly. "Really, I do. You don't have to worry. I've got no plans on disrupting Prowl's spark. That's nowhere near the list of things I want to do."

"I just want to be sure he's happy," Smokescreen said. He looked at Prowl. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Jazz swore an unspoken 'again' hung in the air between them.

Prowl reached across the table to put a hand on his sibling's arm. "Smokescreen. I _am_ happy with Jazz. Very. Please, let it go."

Smokescreen hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Forgive me, Jazz?"

"Hey, of course I do," Jazz said, meaning it. "You're looking out for your sibling, I get that."

"Have you any siblings, Jazz?" Quickshadow put in. "If you don't mind my asking, of course."

Relieved at the change of topic, Jazz answered, and the rest of the evening was much more relaxed.

* * *

When they arrived at their office the next morning, having breakfasted on the wafers Jazz had forgotten about last night, Quickshadow was waiting outside the door. Prowl knew that Jazz _had_ made time for her over the next deca-cycle but starting _tomorrow._ They had expected her that night, not the previous one, and planned accordingly after all.

"Ah, Prowl, Jazz, good morning!" Quickshadow greeted them. "Right on time, excellent. Shall we get started?"

"Um…"

"A moment," Prowl said firmly and turned to Jazz. "Jazz, darling, would you please open up the office today? I need a word with my creator."

"Ah," Jazz glanced between them. "Sure, Prowler. We've got a client coming in first thing this morning, though. Do you want me to start without you, or - ?"

"I won't be long," Prowl promised, opening the door. "Go on, lover, I'll be there shortly. Creator, in my office, please?"

"Prowl, what in Prima's name is going on?" Quickshadow asked once Prowl's office door closed behind them. He didn't lock it; Jazz wouldn't interrupt them. "I thought you wanted me to train Jazz."

"I do, and you will," Prowl responded. "But we have a business to run and one that is becoming reasonably successful. Jazz and I have clients we're scheduled to meet with today, and it would be irresponsible to simply cancel on them. I must ask that you work within the time Jazz has cleared for you."

For good measure, Prowl sent her a copy of their schedule so she would know when Jazz was available. It was not something Prowl would necessarily have done for himself, but he knew Jazz would appreciate the details being shared. 'Clear lines of communication' his lover called it, and with a few deca-cycles of practice behind him now, Prowl had to admit he was beginning to see the appeal.

Quickshadow frowned and looked Prowl over curiously. "Very well, but I'd expected more flexibility from you. Did you two have a fight? Is this a sort of apology?"

"Not at all. Jazz," one corner of Prowl's mouth lifted in a smile, "has been asserting himself more and more. He dislikes having decisions made for him unilaterally and is becoming more and more likely to push back."

"Ah, excellent!" Quickshadow looked pleased. "Just as you wanted."

"Yes." Prowl's smile broadened and grew fond. "He's coming along nicely."

"Then why didn't you let him tell me any of this?"

_Ah._ "Perhaps I should have," Prowl admitted. He _was_ trying to avoid making unilateral decisions, but he had much more experience with Quickshadow and Jazz had been so obviously unsure of what to do. "Much of this is new for me. Jazz requires much more transparency than I've allowed in a relationship before. Fortunately for me, he's quite patient with me as I adapt. I'll apologize to him shortly."

"I see." Quickshadow smiled. "I'm pleased to hear things are working out between you, then."

"Jazz is understanding," Prowl murmured, pleased as always by the thought of his lover. "And kind."

"Yes, so I've gathered." Quickshadow tipped her head sideways, just a little, and regarded him. "Will you tell him?"

"Yes, and ask him if I should have let him speak to you instead." That wasn't what Quickshadow was getting at, and Prowl knew it, but he did not want to discuss the particulars of his relationship with Jazz right now. Especially not particulars that he'd not been able to bring up with Jazz yet either.

Even so, Quickshadow gave her creation a knowing look. "I wasn't referring to our conversation." Before Prowl could say anything, she continued on. "But then, I know how you like to change the subject when you don't want to talk about or handle your emotions."

Prowl frowned at this evidence that his creator knew him _far_ too well. "Creator – "

"Yes, of course. You don't like to be pushed. Enough for now, then."

Prowl took the opportunity to avoid discussing his emotions and let the conversation end.

Quickshadow stood at attention and clasped her hands behind her back. "I'll leave you to your schedule and be on my way."

"No good-bye kiss?" Prowl teased.

Quickshadow huffed tolerantly, but kissed him warmly on the cheek and got the same in return. "Honestly. Such irreverent creations I have."

"Yes, and I'm your favourite," Prowl told her smugly.

"You're certainly the one who turned out most like me," Quickshadow admitted, not precisely denying Prowl's claim. "Vector Sigma knows what it's doing, I will say.

"I'll see you and Jazz tonight. Goodbye for now, Prowl."

* * *

Jazz heard the main office door open and close again and sent Prowl a quick comm. ' _Hey, everything okay?'_

_'Yes, lover.'_

_'Good. Hey, thanks for speaking to your creator for me.'_

"You don't mind?" Prowl asked aloud, appearing in the doorway to Jazz's office. "I hadn't meant to simply take over – I know you dislike it."

"Well, it's true I don't want you to speak for me all the time," Jazz admitted, "but I mostly don't mind this time. I have a lot to do without trying to stop Quickshadow from sweeping me along with whatever she wanted. You know her better than I do, and I think it was just easier for you to do it."

It was a relief for Prowl to learn that, even though he'd overstepped, in this instance, Jazz was not upset by it.

"Still, I did disregard one of your boundaries," Prowl pointed out, walking over and taking one of Jazz's hands. "Intentionally or not."

"Yeah, but it's really your first slip since I told you about it, and we talked, and I know you didn't mean to." Jazz pulled their joined hands back toward him and kiss the back of Prowl's. "Like I said, it's hard sometimes to know what our different wants and needs are. You don't have to apologize for it this time, just…keep working on it."

"I will," Prowl promised. "I do want to comply with your wishes, lover."

"I know," Jazz reassured him, looking up at him affectionately. "I know you've been trying, it's another reason I wasn't upset." He smiled, wrapping both hands around Prowl's now. "I know you, babe."

"So you do," Prowl agreed, leaning over the desk for a kiss. After, he let his chevron rest against Jazz's forehelm. "I'm quite glad Barricade went straight to me for your contract, you know."

Jazz laughed. "Only from you could that sound sweet, Prowler." The main office door opened, and he stole a vanishingly quick kiss before pulling away and standing. "C'mon, sweetspark. Time to get to work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, Quickshadow needs more love. She was voiced by Alex Kingston, I'm surprised the Doctor Who fandom wasn't all over her.
> 
> Prowl asked Jazz if he wanted to walk away and got Jazz's challenge in return in [Provisionally Accepted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899282).


	3. Chapter Two

Jazz was soon to find out that Prowl hadn't been kidding about Quickshadow not going easy on him; the first session of physical training with her was a lot more intense than anything Jazz had done in a _long_ time, but he didn't feel it right away. It was the _next_ day, after the repeated increased strain on his tensors and joints, that made him ache. The exercise didn't even faze Quickshadow, who cheerily dismissed him at the end of each session, one bit, but Jazz flopped into bed every night for the first seven or eight mega-cycles absolutely exhausted.

At least, Jazz thought, Prowl was there to offer sympathy and fuss over him – well, as much as Prowl 'fussed' anyway. It didn't _entirely_ make up for feeling like he'd been swatted by a metrotitan, but Jazz still basked in the attention. Well, as much as he could, at any rate. It was hard to genuinely bask when you were exhausted down to the struts, so Jazz mostly just lay on the bed and simply appreciated Prowl filling in scratches and repainting him. Quickshadow had insisted Jazz replace his existing chromanite colonies with more durable ones, the kind used by police and military mecha, but they hadn't completely grown in yet. Jazz was still in need of daily touch-ups, thanks to Quickshadow putting him through the wringer.

"I'm sorry I'm not around more lately," Jazz apologized on night five – or maybe six. He'd been so busy lately his mega-cycles were kind of a blur. "And that I'm just coming home and pretty much just falling into bed and recharging."

"I understand, lover, you've got a good reason. As for being tired, it's just a matter of time. You'll get used to the extra exertion," Prowl promised, carefully wet-sanding filler with a fine tool until it lay even with the rest of Jazz's metal. "Soon, you'll even begin to miss it if you don't get a chance to be active."

Jazz groaned. "Babe, I know it's the truth 'cause you've been doing so much better at that," and really, Prowl had never out-and-out _lied_ to him, "but right now it really doesn't feel like it."

"It will happen," his lover reassured him. "Then you'll be able to join me in my own workouts. Provided I've little need to worry about injuring you, even in minor ways."

Prowl gave the spot he was touching up one last pass with the wet-sander, then put that away and brought out a small bottle of touch-up paint, laced with the new chromanites that would give Jazz a more durable finish. Prowl applied the paint in delicate strokes over the worst of the scratches. The finer ones would fill in on their own as the chromanite colonies rebuilt their population.

"Mm. I guess." Jazz shut his optics off and lay there just letting himself feel, aware of the brush moving over his armour and of Prowl's warmth. "I don't know how you ever have the energy for anything else."

"Your structure and systems will adjust very soon," Prowl soothed. "I can already tell you're improving."

"You've got fewer scratches to fill?"

"That, and I haven't had to pop many dents for you in the past couple of megacycles." Prowl exchanged the touch-up paint for a spray bottle. "Sealant now, darling, stay still."

Jazz complied – not that he really had the energy to do otherwise - as Prowl applied the chemical over the newly filled and touched-up areas. The cool mist of sealant drifted down, adhering to his paint and drying almost instantly. He'd want a fresh polish as well, but that could wait till morning – no sense wasting a shiny new coat on recharging.

"Do you feel better now, lover?" Prowl asked, putting the detailing kit away.

"Much." Jazz lifted a hand and rubbed Prowl's knee. "Thanks for taking care of me, Prowler."

Prowl smiled at him warmly. "Any time, my dearest Jazz."

Jazz smiled back at him as Prowl leaned down and kissed Jazz warmly. It would have been short, but Jazz put a hand on the back of his neck and held him in it. They hadn't had much time for intimacy lately, and Jazz, tired as he was, was missing it and told Prowl this.

Prowl stroked Jazz's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "It's alright, you'll be less tired soon enough. I do enjoy having you around for more than just interface, my sweet."

"Yeah, I know." Jazz caught Prowl's hand in his and nibbled the fingers gently but without heat. "It's pretty awesome, though. I _can_ give you some more kisses."

Prowl smiled. "I certainly won't turn that down."

Jazz called a reluctant halt to the kisses once he realized he was only kliks away from falling asleep.

"Sorry, babe," he said, optics resisting the command to come back online. "Getting close to power-down whether I like it or not. Can still cuddle, though, if you like."

"I'd very much like to cuddle with you." Prowl lay down with Jazz, tucking himself under Jazz's arm. Prowl's hand rested on Jazz's stomach, fingertips idly petting, back and forth. "I know you've had to adapt to quite a bit lately, lover. I'm very proud of you, Jazz."

Jazz tightened his arm around Prowl. "Thanks, babe, that means a lot."

"You're very welcome." For a moment, Jazz thought Prowl might say something else, but all the former assassin did was nestle a little closer and press a soft kiss to Jazz's armour. "Goodnight, lover."

"'Night, Prowler."

* * *

Even with his training with Quickshadow, Jazz still had to work his day job and that mega-cycle he was continuing with the Senator Ratbat investigation. He'd been looking into this for a while and felt like he'd finally started to make some real progress, finding things that were hidden and not just behind the usual Senate-level security measures. Oh, sure, Jazz accessed the legal records through legal means, but when the trail led him to less-than-legal records, he didn't scruple about using less-than-legal methods to get into them. It wasn't like he was breaking into the files of very _nice_ mecha after all. Right now, he was on Senator Ratbat's personal server, skimming through the data, looking for anything to connect him to Senator Crosscut, the Decepticon movement, or both.

Jazz tried not to worry about a repeat of what had happened after he'd dipped too deeply into Halex Corporation's files for someone's liking. (Prowl knew who and had probably intimidated them into leaving Jazz alone, but Jazz had said he didn't want to know how that had been handled and Prowl had respected that.) Jazz had learned very, very well in recent deca-cycles to hide his tracks, and he'd proven to have a talent for it. Oh, sure, if someone _really_ knew where to look, they might find a hint that someone who shouldn't have had accessed the files, but there was no reason to look unless you already knew. Prowl had calculated a less than two percent chance that it would be tracked back to Jazz and called it an acceptable risk.

"Besides," the former assassin had said, "I believe all the mecha who could track you know you're under my protection. I've let them think it's on behalf of a more powerful client of mine, which is even technically true."

Yes, because Jazz was doing this at Quickshadow's behest. Quickshadow, it turned out, was an even more successful assassin than Prowl. Prowl was an urban legend, never seen and never so much as detained on suspicion, but mecha still told stories about him. Quickshadow was, well, a shadow. Criminals and Enforcers didn't know her name, she was clearly well paid but apparently did not freelance, and Prowl had referred to her having 'handlers' instead of clients. Prowl had stopped there, though, unable to continue because even he didn't know more than that. Not for certain. Quickshadow had not told her creations everything, claiming it was to keep them safe.

"No wonder you compartmentalize so much," Jazz had said, and Prowl had simply nodded.

Speaking of compartmentalizing, Jazz's walkthrough of Senator Ratbat's extra-hidden files had yielded a block of data that wasn't quite right. It was marked as if it were a deleted folder, with the 'space available' marker that meant that sector of the drive was available for use clearly visible. However, a second, hidden, marker rendered it effectively invisible even to the system itself unless you went _deep_ into the code. Like Jazz just had.

"Well, well, aren't you interesting," Jazz murmured. Using specialized software, he cloned the data block to a secure portable drive connected to the terminal he was using and continued searching. The continued search didn't yield anything, and he carefully withdrew his presence from the Senator's system. He connected the portable drive to an air-gapped terminal, made a second copy to work from in case anything happened to the original, and ran a sequence of security programs he'd gotten from Red Alert to make sure the data was clean. Cycles later, when the security sequence was done, Jazz, still using the air-gapped terminal, opened the data and had a look at what he'd been hunting all this time. Red Alert's programs had decrypted three levels of passwords and other security measures, cleaned and quarantined two nasty viruses that would _not_ have done Jazz's neural net any favours, and finally proclaimed the data block 'likely clean.'

Red Alert might be paranoid in the extreme sometimes, but he did some damned good work. Even with a reading of 'likely clean,' Jazz felt confident he could take a look at the information without anything nasty happening. Even so, he didn't link to the terminal to run a scan just in case. Still, reading through the whole data block manually would take too long. Jazz ran a series of keyword searches instead to try and pull up pertinent information first, even the obvious ones like 'Decepticon,' 'Contrail,' and 'Megatron' or 'Megatronus.' Experience had taught Jazz that people would go to great lengths to conceal or erase something and still miss the obvious.

Prowl wandered into Jazz's office mid-way through the day to make him take a break and to check on his progress.

"I found a hidden block of deeply encrypted data," Jazz told him, letting Prowl pull him to his feet and into a kiss. "I'm running keyword searches right now to see if I can pull up anything useful without having to go through everything line-by-line myself."

"Excellent work, lover," Prowl praised and rewarded him with another kiss. "While that's running, you can take a few minutes and relax."

"Could take most of a cycle, actually." Jazz rubbed just under Prowl's door hinges, which he knew the other mech liked. "I'd take a nap, but there's no couch in here."

"Would you like one?"

"Mhm. So you can talk me into breaking the 'no 'facing in the office' rule?"

Prowl tried to look innocent; it didn't work very well. "I'm only thinking of your comfort, lover."

"Uh-huh, my comfort while you're 'facing me."

"That is of great importance," Prowl agreed, then made an undignified sound that Jazz knew he would deny was a squeak until the heat death of the universe when Jazz found a very ticklish spot under his hinges and used it. "Yes, yes, boundaries, darling, I remember."

"Good." Jazz went back to the hinge massage, rewarding his lover for behaving. "Anyway, I've been working on this long enough, and I want to be here when the search finishes; see what's up, if there's anything to see."

Prowl locked his hands in the small of Jazz's back. "You're not confident you'll find something useful? You said it was deeply encrypted."

"Yeah, but people sometimes encrypt weird things," Jazz replied. "One of my colleagues spent three mega-cycles decrypting something once, turned out to be recipes for energon goodies. The files he was really looking for? Stored in a safe on standard datapads, and the password was the suspect's lover's sparking date."

"Foolish," Prowl muttered disapprovingly. Jazz wasn't surprised at his lover's scorn; Prowl's cleaning drones had better security. "At least I can be sure you were never so unwise."

"You told me I needed to improve my home security the night we met," Jazz pointed out. "Did you break into my habsuite's systems?"

"No, that was unnecessary. I only observed you," Prowl assured him as if that wasn't creepy at all. "It was simply likely your security was little more than standard. Perfectly fine for an ordinary mech, but I was certain that when I refused the contract, Barricade would hire someone else." Someone else who would have fulfilled it without question. "I didn't want that to happen."

"Because you didn't want me to die or because you didn't want your hard work to go to waste?" Jazz asked curiously.

"Because I wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you," Prowl murmured, leaning in to do just that. "And I would have regretted never getting the chance."

To say that Jazz had been shocked to see Prowl in his apartment the first time they met would be putting it mildly. Apparently, though, Prowl had found his expression 'cute and kissable.' Jazz was just as glad Prowl hadn't told him that until relatively recently when he knew Prowl so well and trusted him. Now, though, Jazz was more than happy to give Prowl the kiss he wanted.

"That was smooth, babe," Jazz admitted afterwards. "But, I'm still not breaking the office 'facing rule."

"I know. I simply enjoy trying to tempt you. You don't," Prowl pointed out smugly, "have a rule against that."

Jazz smirked. "No, I don't," he said, and ruthlessly tickled his lover again.

* * *

The keyword search finished running, and Jazz began to read through the results. Senator Ratbat was smarter than the energon goodie mech had been – not hard – and even the documents he'd hidden away under multiple levels of security were carefully phrased to avoid incriminating him.

"Anything interesting?" Prowl, draped over Jazz's shoulder, asked.

"I think so," Jazz replied, scanning back through the document in front of him. "But it seems like a lot of doubletalk. It'll take a little time to go over and sort out."

"Ah, at last," Prowl said, sounding pleased. "Something on this investigation for me to do. Shall I take a look for you, lover?"

"Please. I'll mark the files I want you to go over, but," Jazz teased, "I've got to warn you, I'm keeping the spreadsheets and bookkeeping for myself."

"I shall endeavour to contain my disappointment," Prowl said drily.

"Sure you will, babe." Jazz tipped his head back to look at Prowl. "Do you want to report to the client yet or wait until we've gone through everything?"

"Let's look through everything first," Prowl suggested. "Then, we'll have an idea of what's relevant, if anything."

"Not going to let the mech decide for herself?" Jazz asked curiously.

Prowl kissed his cheek. "I want to prioritize the data and see for myself what we've found."

"Oh, you want to be nosy," Jazz teased, reaching up to pull Prowl in for a proper kiss. "But yeah, I want to find out too. I mean, it might not be what we're looking for, but it's got to be something."

"Will you turn the target in to the Enforcers if it's something illegal?" Prowl asked.

Jazz frowned. Would he? He hadn't turned in Prowl, or Smokescreen, or Quickshadow – though so far as he could tell, there was no proof, anywhere, that Quickshadow had ever done anything illegal. There might not even be proof she existed under that designation. Besides, to turn in Smokescreen or Quickshadow risked leading the Enforcers back to Prowl. Jazz couldn't bring himself to do anything that would put Prowl at risk. Plus, he hadn't exactly gotten this information in strictly legal ways, and if he handed it over to the Enforcers, he'd have to explain how he came by it. Jazz couldn't think of a way to do so that didn't involve also telling them about Prowl.

"Maybe anonymously?" Jazz suggested. "I don't know how I'd explain how I found it in the first place without getting one or both of us arrested." Another thought occurred to him. "Plus, I mean, your creator – if she's looking into it, isn't it already being investigated?"

Prowl put a line of little kisses along the top of Jazz's shoulder. "Excellent, my dear. Yes, it is, in a way. Does that salve your conscience?"

"Makes me feel better, yeah," Jazz admitted. It probably shouldn't have, but it did. He remembered something Prowl had said to him early on. "Looks like you were right."

"Mm?" Prowl hummed into the side of his neck. "You'll have to be more specific, lover. I'm right quite often."

Usually, Jazz would have called a statement like that boasting, but with Prowl, it was true.

"It was on our first date. We were in the theatre, it was the intermission, you asked if I were enjoying myself, even with the petty crimes." Though they _had_ had permission to come to the theatre just…not without tickets and not by sneaking in through the roof access hatch. "I said I was and you said 'That’s how I draw you in. Involving you in larger and larger activities until they stop bothering you.' Pretty sure not formally turning in a corrupt Senator counts as a 'larger activity.'"

"It does, but trust Creator," Prowl advised. "If she wanted this done, there's a reason. If it's best to turn things over to the Enforcers, she will. She's quite ethical – as much as I am, in fact."

Primus help him, how had Jazz gotten himself tangled up with one assassin with a sense of ethics, let alone two?

Prowl pressed his cheek against Jazz's, hugging him, and made a quiet purring sound like he was happy to just be there with Jazz.

Oh, yeah. That was how.

* * *

Quickshadow insisted Jazz take a different route each day to the converted warehouse she used for his training. He was supposed to avoid her either tailing him or intercepting him before he got within a certain distance. So far, he'd learned to avoid the tail most of the time but had yet to manage not to be intercepted.

At least she was only using paintballs when she caught him and not real ammunition. Jazz hadn't had to clean off this much temporary paint since splattering yourself with bright colours had been a fad in his adolescence.

Jazz's creators hadn't really approved. They'd let him splatter some, but to get a _real_ effect, he'd had to head over to a friend's house first, add a lot more, then head out to wherever. There had been a couple of times he'd had to rush clean up so he could get back before curfew. Then, somewhere, it had become easier to just do what his creators wanted and be sure he got back on time.

 _You got stuck_ , Prowl's voice whispered from the past. He had, he really had, and since he began dating Prowl, it had really started to stand out to him just how much.

Jazz wove through the obstacle course Quickshadow had set up for them that night, knowing she was probably already seeing the pattern in what he was doing. He wondered what the adolescent Jazz, the one who covered himself in bright paint and was always in a rush to get back by curfew, would have done. What the free spirit Prowl was always insisting he was meant to be and really was deep down would have done. The answer, when it came, was amazingly simple. He should just do what he'd done to get into Senator Ratbat's secret files, what he'd done to really splatter as an adolescent: _break the rules_.

Jazz was supposed to avoid Quickshadow, dodge the obstacles, and make it across the finish line without getting paintballed. Ideally, he'd do it without being seen, but Quickshadow didn't expect that of him yet.

Jazz doubled back, using the obstacles to conceal himself instead of dodging them. He ignored the goal of the course and began to hunt his instructor instead. If he took out his pursuer, he could get across the finish line without any problems. It was a big if, seeing as Jazz was still in training, and Quickshadow had an enormous amount of experience, but it was worth a try.

Besides, better to fail in training than in real life. The worst Jazz would get if he failed during practice was a lecture on what he'd done wrong and some dents and scratches.

Jazz didn't manage to take out Quickshadow, of course. He hadn't expected to, even though he had tried his best; she'd go into detail with him on what he'd done wrong, but he'd _really_ hear about it if he didn't put every effort into whatever it was she wanted him to do. He did get closer than he usually did, though.

"Now, then," Quickshadow said briskly, while bits of the paintball's soft, plastic, shell were still sliding down Jazz's chest and arm. If this had been real, she'd have gotten him in the shoulder, which was still better than right over the spark chamber, where she'd been getting him in all of their other sessions. "Explain to me why you weren't attempting to cross the finish line as I instructed."

"I was going to try and take you out, first," Jazz told her. "Figured if you were incapacitated, I'd have a better chance. I was pretty sure you were going to get me either way, but at least this way, it took you longer."

"Yes, because you did something I didn't expect. I'm your instructor, so I know your methods, and it won't work as well a second time, of course," she added. "Not if you do exactly the same thing. As for incapacitating – I realize you don't want to kill, but you must realize that the time may come when you have to."

"Yeah, Prowl said the same thing." If they weren't done, they were at least on a break, he supposed; Jazz subspaced a cloth and started cleaning up the paint that had splattered over his right side.

"Ah, yes. Prowl."

Uh oh. Jazz glanced at Quickshadow, though he'd kept her in his peripheral vision the whole time. "Is this the 'hurt him, and I slag you' speech?"

"Hardly. Prowl can take care of himself," Quickshadow said, with a careless wave, as if she were dismissing the very concept of Prowl needing anyone to look after him in any way. "Nor can I picture you hurting him in any way, truthfully. You're clearly captivated by each other. It's been quite some time since I've seen him so…deeply fascinated." Jazz could have sworn there was a last-second word switch there. "But I suppose that's not mine to say, though I _will_ say that if there are certain things you want to hear from him, you may have to ask him outright and persist. I'm sure you've noticed how he would rather change the subject than discuss his emotions."

"Oh yeah." It had taken a bit to figure out the whys and wherefores of _that_ particular quirk, but Jazz had figured it out. He was about to ask Quickshadow what he was supposed to ask Prowl, but he didn't get the chance.

"Anyway," Quickshadow continued briskly, "that's enough of that. Back to the beginning with you, now, we've another cycle together."

Jazz went back to the beginning of the course, which altered around him at a command from Quickshadow. He hadn't won the exercise, but he had the feeling he'd definitely come out ahead on something, even if he weren't quite sure what it was.

* * *

When Jazz got home from practice with Quickshadow that night, it was to find Prowl in the living room, with his tablet docked, and various holo-screens floating around him. Prowl was working on the documents Jazz had separated out from the Ratbat files for him. That was unusual: Prowl rarely brought work home from the office. Jazz was finally not coming home utterly worn out from training and instead of heading upstairs to rest or recharge, he walked over to his lover.

"Hello, darling," Prowl said a touch absently, not looking up.

"Hello, yourself, Prowler. Isn't this a switch," Jazz joked, sliding in next to Prowl on the couch, "you hard at work in the evening instead of me?"

"Yes, quite," Prowl agreed. He put an arm around Jazz and tugged him closer. "How was training?"

"Good." Jazz put his head down on Prowl's chest, letting his optics go unfocused, so the holo-screens blurred into pretty, meaningless, streaks of light instead of precise oblongs of data. "I'm still tired, but hey: no dents, and she's not nailing me in above the spark chamber with the paintballs every time. She gets my shoulders or upper chest mostly now. So that's progress, I guess?"

Prowl's lips brushed his helm. "Yes, it is. Excellent, lover. I've also made some progress, but not as much as I'd hoped. These documents are in code, of course, but it's not one based on a cipher or other alphanumeric sequence; they're interconnected references to other documents. It's quite fascinating, really. I'll need to access your section of the files as well to solve it, I think."

Jazz nuzzled him. "'Kay, I'll get those to you, but not right now."

"No?" Prowl asked in surprise.

"Well, we're switching roles tonight, right?" Jazz, who Prowl had more than once called his 'sweet workaholic,' pointed out. "So, instead of working, this is the point where I insist you fuel on something and then try to coax you to relax using sexual bribery."

Prowl chuckled, though it sounded tired to Jazz's not-inexperienced audial. "You say 'try' as if I don't succeed in getting you to rest that way."

"Heh, yeah." Jazz swung a leg over both of Prowl's and straightened up, straddling his lover's lap and blocking his view of the screens. "Can't help it though, you're gorgeous and persuasive."

"I am, aren't I?" Prowl sounded pleased, though he didn't have the seductive edge to his voice he usually got at this point.

"Something's bothering you tonight, Prowler," Jazz observed, linking his hands together behind Prowl's neck. "Is it something in the files?"

"The depth of the Senator's involvement may be greater than Creator thought," Prowl said, hands coming to rest on Jazz's waist. "And there are some other things I dislike about it, but those are little more than a general feeling. It's difficult to explain without more information, the decrypted files, but I will try if you like."

"You can tell me later," Jazz said, rubbing Prowl's shoulders. "I'm trying to get you to _not_ work, remember? Plus, I know you like to go into things once you've got all the info and not before."

"Yes, true." Prowl smiled at him, some of the playfulness coming back. "You'll have to forgive me, lover. I'm not generally so distracted when I have a lapful of sexy accountant."

"Oh yeah? How many sexy accountants have you had in your lap?" Jazz teased. "Do I have to worry about them coming around?"

"You don't have to worry about anyone else," Prowl assured him, hands sliding up Jazz's back, fingers splaying wide.

"No?"

"Not at all, my lover."

Jazz pretended to misunderstand, trying to get Prowl to smile again. "So, what happened to all these other accountants then? Because I was just starting to picture myself as the head of this bevy of sexy accountants of yours."

"'Bevy of sexy accountants,'" Prowl repeated, giving Jazz what he wanted and smiling. "Is that what you'd call it?"

"Mhm." Jazz nodded. "We'd have to decide who gets what amount of time with you, of course. I mean, most of it would be mine, since I'm obviously the Chief Sexy Accountant – "

"You are the sexiest accountant, yes."

" - but once we've decided what kind of chart to use – hey!"

Suddenly, Prowl flipped them sideways; Jazz landed on his back on the couch, grinning up at Prowl, who was leaning over him, looking amused.

"You," Prowl informed him affectionately, optics bright with amusement, "are ridiculous."

"You're right," Jazz agreed, glad to see he'd managed to cheer his lover up. "It'd obviously have to be a pie chart."

Prowl shook his head indulgently and leaned down to kiss Jazz. "There are no other accountants," he said and kissed Jazz between phrases, "no bevy, no charts, no one else. Only you, my sweet Jazz."

"Yeah," Jazz said, pinned under one of the most dangerous mecha on Cybertron, completely relaxed and utterly safe. "Only you."

Prowl kissed him again, tenderly this time, and very soon, Decepticons, senators, and files alike were forgotten for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prowl telling Jazz he 'got stuck' happened in [Being Chase'd](http://archiveofourown.org/works/16899186).


	4. Chapter Three

Jazz gave Prowl the rest of the files the next day then left him alone to attempt to decrypt them all. Prowl and his extraordinarily potent processors were better suited for it, after all.

Jazz handled their clients that day while Prowl worked on the files, and they once again found themselves switching roles when Jazz went to make sure Prowl took a break. To be fair, the only reason Jazz knew it was break time was Prowl didn't visit him the way he usually did, and Jazz noticed the lack.

"Which one of us is the workaholic?" Jazz teased, sliding a small cube of energon between his lover and his lover's workstation.

"Twice is a coincidence," Prowl told him, nuzzling against Jazz's bumper before picking up the cube. "You need at least three occurrences for a pattern to begin to emerge."

"So, you're going to stop after this?" Jazz asked, sliding a hand across the back of Prowl's neck, seeking tense cables there.

"Mm, perhaps." Prowl sipped his energon. "Though I did enjoy the – what did you call it? – 'sexual bribery' aspects of your drawing me away from my work."

"Yeah, but that doesn't work with the 'no 'facing in the office' rule," Jazz pointed out, not giving in on that one. Yet, anyway. Prowl could be persistent, and, well, it wasn't as if the lust had _ever_ been one-sided. Maybe after hours, when the door was locked, and no one was expected they could…? But not right now, Jazz told himself firmly.

"True," Prowl acknowledged, complying as Jazz urged him to stand up and stretch.

Despite Prowl's acquiescence, Jazz frowned. Prowl usually tried to flirt with him or coax him into breaking the office rules at this point.

"Something wrong, babe?" Jazz asked, following Prowl as he walked over to the window. "You still seem kind of off."

"I am a little tired," Prowl admitted. "As for the files, I'm still working on correlating all the references with each other, but I have enough to tell that the problem is deeper than just a corrupt Senator and High Secretary wanting to make themselves richer on the side. I've nothing concrete, but it is troubling."

"D'you want me to go back into the Senator's servers, see what else I can find?" Jazz asked.

"No, or at least not yet. I believe I will find the definitive connection between Senator, Secretary, and Decepticons in what you've already given me." Prowl took Jazz's hand, lacing their fingers together. "It may not be a pleasant finding. Some of what I have decoded so far looks as if there may also be a plot to assassinate the Prime."

Prowl said that so casually, it took Jazz a whole four nano-kliks to parse the sentence. "Wait, _what_?"

"Oh, there's almost always a plot to assassinate the Prime," Prowl said breezily. "They never succeed, of course, usually don't even get near him. Most of the plots lack any sort of planning beyond showing up on a rooftop with a rifle, or bombing somewhere the Prime is meant to be. They're easily foiled if the Primal Vanguard does their job, and they always do. It's why I've always turned down such contracts."

"That much risk of getting caught?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, I'd worry if I were to attempt such a thing and _didn't_ get caught eventually. But Primes are quite safe from my rifles. Too much trouble." Prowl added thoughtfully, "though if this is an assassination plot, they've at least put quite a bit of effort into concealing their tracks. It does rather indicate someone is quite serious about it."

"You're – really calm about this." It had been a while since Prowl had caught Jazz off-guard like this, but this was the _Prime_ they were talking about. _Assassinating_ the Prime.

Prowl shrugged one shoulder. "I've little feeling regarding Primes one way or another, and there are measures in place to ensure their safety. I'll confirm the plot and report it to Creator, and I'm quite sure things will be taken care of. No, it's the connection between the _senators_ that I feel the most need to untangle. I also want to speak with Creator and see if she would be interested in all the data or only in that pertaining directly to Ratbat and Crosscut. I'd thought to accompany you to your lesson tonight and speak with Creator then if that's alright with you."

"Sure, babe. Believe me, I do not have a problem not getting shot with paintballs for an extra few kliks." Maybe even a whole breem! Jazz stroked Prowl's arm with his free hand. "Haven't practiced with you in a while, either. Maybe we could get some in? Pretty confident you don't have to worry about hurting me anymore. I couldn't hold my own if she were _really_ trying to hurt me, but I'm doing a lot better."

"Excellent. I've noticed your sleep has been undisturbed as well." Prowl paused, then asked carefully, "you've not been dreaming about the alley?"

Jazz paused before answering, thinking back on that one. He hadn't had a nightmare about being attacked by mob thugs since he'd started training with Quickshadow, though he hadn't noticed until Prowl pointed it out. He knew he'd dreamed, but he couldn't remember any of them, not really. Except that one with the pie charts and even that was kind of vague.

"Yeah," Jazz said slowly. "Yeah, those seem to have stopped. Maybe not forever, but they're gone for now."

"Good." Prowl put his arms around Jazz, tugged him in closer. "I dislike seeing you upset or seeing anything prey on your mind like that."

The irony of that statement was not lost on Jazz. Having Prowl appear out of _nowhere_ in his apartment had preyed on Jazz's mind for quite some time after his initial meeting with the assassin. Although, if the mech had just approached him in the street to warn him, Jazz supposed he might not have taken the warning seriously. Looked at through that lens, it made sense.

"Having you there helps," Jazz admitted, not-quite-consciously holding his lover a little tighter.

"Mm, good." Prowl stroked the bare protoform at Jazz's waist. "I had noticed you'd hardly been back to your own apartment since the incident in the alley. Are you – not comfortable being there?"

"I don't know," Jazz said slowly, tracing some of the detail on Prowl's chest plates. "I haven't thought about it like that, just – staying with you seems like what I should be doing. I like to be there, like to be near you."

"And I would rather have you near me, believe me," Prowl said, brushing a kiss across Jazz's forehelm. "My offer to keep you is still open, by the way."

When Prowl had first started trying to find a way to get Jazz out of the accountant's previous career, claiming it helped repress the real him, he'd offered to make Jazz a kept mech. Jazz, who preferred the independence of having his own shanix, had refused. Jazz would have been lying if he said he hadn't reconsidered it since. But…

"One, I still want to earn my own income," Jazz reminded him, "and two, what would I do all day?"

"Take up your music again?" Prowl suggested. He traced lines up either side of Jazz's spinal linkages. "You seem to regret having given it up. Of course, you could do that, regardless."

"Yeah, but the apartment's kind of open. You wouldn't really be able to get any quiet or do much work when I'm practicing," Jazz pointed out. He had a little space under the stairs to the bedroom that he used as a workspace, but it wasn't big enough for both his workstation and practice space. Besides, the acoustics would be terrible.

"True," Prowl agreed. He was still lightly stroking Jazz's back. "If that's a concern, then, perhaps, we could find somewhere with a real room for your music and workspace. If you're willing, of course."

Jazz had always thought that the moment a lover asked you to move in with them would feel more significant, more visceral since you were about to make a major change. This just felt like a natural adjustment, probably because, well, weren't they pretty much living together already? Jazz having his apartment still was just a-a habit, a fallback, and one he realized he didn't need or want any more.

Jazz nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think I'm ready for that."

Prowl smiled and brushed a kiss over Jazz's mouth. "So am I."

* * *

That evening Jazz successfully eluded Quickshadow on the trip to the warehouse, thanks to Prowl's help. Jazz had wondered if Quickshadow would consider that fair play, but Prowl had pointed out she'd never expressly forbidden it. (Jazz suddenly gained a lot of insight into what raising Prowl must have been like.) Prowl also pointed out that Jazz could justify it by saying he and Prowl might well team up in the field at some point.

"Are you giving Jazz an unfair advantage, Prowl?" Quickshadow inquired when they arrived, and she saw Prowl with Jazz.

"Didn't you always say there's no such thing as unfair advantages, only advantages?" Prowl returned, smirking.

"So good to know you were paying attention, Prowl," Quickshadow said dryly. "Have you come to join the lesson, or have you accompanied Jazz for another reason?"

"The building is secure?" Prowl asked instead of answering her question.

"Really, Prowl, do you think I've gotten lazy without you three around?"

"We found the information you wanted," Prowl told her. "It confirms your suspicions and more. The connections are complicated and far-ranging. Do you want us to keep looking into them, or are you satisfied with only the information on Ratbat and Crosscut?"

"Give me what you have so far," Quickshadow ordered, and Prowl obligingly handed over a data stick with the information on it. She plugged it in and uploaded it, then spent a klik scanning it, frowning. "Hm, yes, I see. Fairly standard assassination plot, yes, but there does seem to be something else behind it, doesn't there?" She folded her arms and drummed the fingers of one hand on the opposite elbow, looking thoughtful. "Have you come across any references to Senator Proteus yet?"

"Not yet." Prowl frowned, clearly thinking something over. "That may help unlock some further aspects of the documents. They weren't directly relevant to the Senators you specified, so I hadn't focused on them."

"Proteus is slippery and paranoid," Quickshadow warned. "Take extra precautions if you need to access anything of his."

"There's a less than two percent chance of being tracked under our current security measures. Prowl had Red Alert set us up with them," Jazz said. "I can always check with him and see if he's got any more, though." Although if Red Alert made things any more secure, Jazz might not be able to get into the office systems himself.

"It certainly can't hurt," Quickshadow said. "Proteus is a nasty, sneaking, subtle piece of work with his own agenda. I've never been called to look into him, but you can tell just by looking at him that he's always seeking to turn things to his own best advantage and those of his fellow Functionists. Mostly himself, however."

Jazz admittedly didn't pay a whole lot of attention to politics, but he'd seen footage of Proteus, of course, who hadn't? Friendly, open, smiling, Functionist, politician – yeah, it didn't exactly take cycles and cycles of thought before Jazz could see how he was probably up to something.

"How worried should we be?" Jazz asked.

"It depends on what you get into," Quickshadow replied bluntly. "Be careful, cover your tracks, and keep Prowl up to date on what you find and any security you encounter so he can take care of it for you. No," she said firmly. "No argument. If it truly bothers you, I suppose Prowl needn't resort to killing anyone as a first step but be advised it might be necessary."

"That's not a concern, Creator. I'm quite devoted to keeping Jazz safe," Prowl said, putting his hand on Jazz's back.

Quickshadow smiled knowingly. "Yes, I quite imagine you are."

Jazz wasn't a fan of the idea that Prowl would go back to assassination, but he didn't particularly want to wind up dead or damaged in an alley either. One near-miss with _that_ was enough. But, Prowl killing someone to protect himself or someone else was different than killing by contract. Wasn't it?

"I'll keep safe as I can and stop if I think there's any danger," Jazz promised, looking at Prowl.

"Excellent," Quickshadow said, satisfied. "Now then, I must be off to relay this information to the proper authorities and check with certain of my other contacts. I may have more for you later, Prowl, Jazz."

"I'm always happy to hear from you, Creator," Prowl said, and stepped forward to get a hug and give and get a kiss on the cheek from her.

Jazz got a handshake from Quickshadow. He was okay with that. Being hugged by Quickshadow would just feel…awkward, especially after she'd shot him so often.

"I'll be in contact shortly," she said briskly, heading out the door. "Oh yes," she said just before she walked out as if she'd only just remembered this. "Prowl. One more thing."

Prowl tipped his head to one side a little. "Yes, Creator?"

"You and Jazz: for the love of Primus, my eldest," Quickshadow said with fond exasperation, " _tell him._ "

Prowl abruptly had the look of someone who had been caught out in something they'd rather not have been caught in. "…yes, Creator."

"Excellent. Stay safe, you two."

"Tell me what?" Jazz wanted to know once Quickshadow had vanished. "Prowl?"

Prowl sighed and took Jazz’s hands. "I had rather hoped for a different setting and circumstance for this."

Jazz frowned in confusion but still tried to lighten the mood. "What? Going to tell me you've got a _conjunx_ and creations hidden somewhere?"

Prowl looked appalled. "No, of course not though I suppose creations are something we should - "

"I'm teasing," Jazz interrupted gently, knowing Prowl's tendency to go off on tangents rather than discuss things very well. "C'mon, babe, what is it?"

Prowl rubbed Jazz's hand with his thumbs, the gesture both affectionate and cautious. "The last time I spoke of this with a lover, it didn't end as I would have liked."

It sounded like some of the baggage from Prowl's previous relationships was still hanging around. Jazz tugged him a little closer.

"Hey, I love you. Whatever it is, we'll work it - " Prowl's expression shifted when Jazz said 'love.' Jazz's native intuition plus his recent training plus his ability to translate from 'Prowl' all collided into sudden understanding. "Oh!"

"This was not how I expected to tell you," Prowl confessed, still looking discomfited.

Jazz choked back a laugh, not wanting Prowl to misinterpret it. "Babe. _Love_. Since we met, when has anything happened the way I expected?" He bumped their forehelms together then kissed Prowl warmly. "Can you say it for me, Prowler? I want to hear it."

Prowl smiled and kissed him back. "Things have hardly been usual for me since we met either, sweet thing, and yes, I can, since you wish it: I love you, my Jazz."

Jazz kissed him again, lingering, letting Prowl pull him in close and kiss him back, sweet and tender.

"Thanks for saying it, love," Jazz said softly. "Still want to practice tonight, or…?"

"Much as I want to see your new skills," Prowl said, "perhaps we could just take a night for us, instead?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Jazz said, not particularly wanting to be interrupted by things that weren't being with Prowl tonight. "Date night? We can have dinner, go home and break out that bottle of sparkling energon wine you've been saving that you think I don't know about?"

Prowl might have secreted the wine away, but he still looked pleased that Jazz had sussed it out. "I knew I was right to bring you into our current career. You're coming along _very_ nicely indeed."

"Oh, am I now?"

"Mhm. To who you were meant to be." Prowl stroked Jazz's cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers. "A free spirit, just as I said the first time we had morning fuel together."

Jazz huffed a short laugh, even while he smiled at the memory. "You ambushed me at my usual café, remember?"

"And you're glad I did."

"Very." Jazz kissed him again. "C'mon. Let's go celebrate finally saying it."

Prowl let Jazz take his hand, and followed him out of the building. "Lead on, my darling. I'll follow wherever you go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The better part of a year I've been trying to get these two idiots to spit it out... 
> 
> In the original Word doc, my aside on Jazz's justification of Prowl scaring him the first time they met just reads, "Jazz, no."


	5. Chapter Four

Their business had picked up fast once they'd given the info they'd gathered on the Senators and the assassination plot to Quickshadow. Quickshadow was referring people to them, it seemed, though the cases they were getting, as a result, weren't potentially politically volatile. Because of the increase in work, Jazz didn't have a whole lot of time for further investigation into Ratbat, Crosscut, and Proteus. Jazz was trying to keep work within work hours, plus he and Prowl were busy apartment-hunting. They both wanted to stay in roughly the same area they were in now and that had apartment buildings, not standalone houses. While they were looking, Jazz closed out his lease and moved his stuff into storage in the rooms above the obstacle course Quickshadow had used for his training. The top level of the old converted warehouse had more than enough space until Jazz figured out what they'd need in the new place and what to do with the stuff they wouldn't.

There was still some stuff he wanted to pick up from his creator's place if they ever managed to get up there. Jazz hadn't retrieved his instruments yet, but he'd indulged himself in the purchase of a new acoustic guitar. It felt right to have a new instrument for a fresh start. He played not in his workspace under the stairs but upstairs in a formerly little-used corner of the bedroom. He was more than a little out of practice, but if Prowl minded having to listen to Jazz's efforts to get himself back up to sounding decent, he never said anything. Or turned off his audials, but honestly, Jazz wouldn't have blamed him for doing that during the first several mega-cycles Jazz was back at practice after his long hiatus.

As for the information they'd turned over to Prowl's creator, either the assassination plot was unsuccessful, to begin with, or Quickshadow had taken care of things because nothing came of it. Jazz thought they were free and clear on the Prime-assassination front right up until the bomb went off.

Prowl might not have cared much for Primes, but his arm was still tight around Jazz's waist as they stood in their living room and watched the media coverage unfold onscreen. Jazz was trying to process the idea of a world without Sentinel Zeta Prime in it. Sentinel Zeta had _always_ been Prime, all Jazz's functioning and his creators' too.

"How did this…?" Jazz trailed off.

"I'm trying to contact Creator now," Prowl said grimly.

Prowl had a powerful onboard communications suite: Quickshadow had insisted on only the best for her creations. Prowl couldn't communicate or broadcast at deployer level, of course, but he would undoubtedly be able to coordinate with many mecha from some distance away. Contacting Quickshadow, with her matching hardware, in Iacon from Altihex was no problem. Once the connection went through, Jazz got a request from Prowl to patch him into their conversation. He accepted and caught Prowl's question halfway through.

' _…this happen?_ ' Prowl was wanting to know. ' _The Primal Vanguard has never failed before. Infiltration?'_

' _Worse,_ ' Quickshadow answered, her voice tight.

' _Traitors?_ '

' ** _Shadowplay_**.'

Prowl's attention snapped to Jazz, who was confused. He'd never heard of shadowplay, although he could tell from Quickshadow's tone that it was bound to be horrifying.

' _You scrubbed that data before you passed it on, Creator?_ ' Prowl demanded.

' _Yes, of course, not that it wasn't shining clean before you gave it to me._ '

' _I Put it through Red's security software before I packaged it for you,_ ' Jazz put in.

' _Excellent. Between the two of you, the source should be untraceable._ '

' _Yes,_ ' Quickshadow agreed. ' _Just in case, burn and replace that terminal to ensure it._ '

' _Yes, of course._ ' Prowl relaxed slightly, but his arm was still tight around Jazz. ' _How do you expect things to proceed?_ '

' _I don't expect a successor is in the wings, so it's likely our current circle of friends will keep things running._ '

' _With their own spin, I expect._ '

' _Of course._ ' Quickshadow's voice shaded with worry. ' _Prowl. I don't know what's going to happen, but the road has been rough of late, and I don't expect it to smooth out any time soon._ '

' _I'm going to need a translation for all this, mecha,_ ' Jazz reminded them. These two were _way_ too used to talking in code.

' _Prowl will explain,_ ' Quickshadow said. ' _I have to go to work right now._ '

' _Of course._ ' Out loud, Prowl said, "Jazz, could I have a moment with her, please?"

"Yeah, of course, babe." Jazz disengaged from the comm call. Prowl spent a moment longer speaking to his creator, then came out of it and turned to Jazz, wrapping his lover in his arms.

"That last was simply personal," Prowl explained. "Do you want me to tell you, or no?"

"Not if you don't want to. You're allowed to have private stuff," Jazz reminded him, leaning into Prowl's embrace. "Thanks for checking, though." Because he wanted Prowl to keep doing it, Jazz encouraged him by adding, "you're doing a _lot_ better with being open with me, lover."

"I have an algorithm running that puts a reminder on my HUD whenever something I'm unsure of comes up in conversation," Prowl admitted.

Of course he did. Despite everything, Jazz smiled. "Whatever works for you, babe." But there were other things to discuss now. "Speaking of uncertainty and conversations, start from the beginning with the one I overheard. What is 'shadowplay?'"

"It's also called 'personality adjustment.'" Prowl waited for a nano-klik but Jazz didn't know what that was either. "It's an offshoot of mnemosurgery," which Jazz _had_ heard of, "but without any therapeutic value. It's often used to create sleeper agents."

"That's what Quickshadow was getting at, wasn't it?" Jazz guessed. Knowing how to translate Prowl gave him a decent handle on translating Quickshadow. "Someone got to someone close to the Prime with this shadowplay junk."

"Yes. Creator doesn't seem to know who, yet, though." Prowl locked his hands together against Jazz's back. "I don't know if she's investigating on her own or if she has been instructed to do so, but if she doesn't have the resources to do so, then I don't know who does."

"Okay, and I got the part about slagging the secure terminal," which would be a pit of scraplets to replace but needs must, Jazz supposed. "So I'm good up to there. But…" Jazz trailed off, unsure how to ask his lover how he could be _sure_ his creator was okay. If you could be changed like that, given a sleeper personality of sorts, you could easily be made to lie about not having been altered.

"Creator has deep-coded and efficient counter-measures installed," Prowl explained in a carefully neutral voice. "I can be sure she is unaffected because she still functions."

Jazz was horrified. "Primus, Prowl!" A second horrifying thought occurred to him. "Baby, you don't…?"

Prowl shook his head. "No. Nor do my siblings. Creator couldn't stand the thought of putting something in her creations that would offline us. I'm not – we are not – in positions where we would normally be politically useful and harming us would not provide leverage over Creator. It would only provoke her wrath – if we left anything for her."

Jazz had sparred with every member of Prowl's family now except Bluestreak, and there was no question in his mind that all three of Quickshadow's creations could take care of themselves.

"Okay, good." Jazz hugged his lover briefly. "Don't want to lose you."

"Nor I, you." Prowl caught Jazz's chin in his hand and kissed him swiftly. "As for the rest of what she and I discussed: there is no known potential new Prime at this point and the Senate will most likely attempt to keep running Cybertron's government without one, and will likely make changes that will benefit themselves more than the populace."

Jazz might not pay attention to politics, but if this came from inside the Senate, and given what they'd uncovered, it seemed likely, he could see where this was going. "They're not going to look for a new Prime, are they?"

"No more than they have to, I expect. I doubt most of Cybertron can picture a world without a Prime, but that doesn't necessarily mean a leader will be chosen," Prowl pointed out. "I expect a puppet Prime at best."

"It's going to be bad, isn't it, Prowl?" Jazz asked quietly.

Prowl sighed. "Yes, it is."

"Should I set up a new secure terminal?"

"No – or not yet, at least. If someone has stooped to using shadowplay, I don't want you going back into anything until the risk factor can be dropped even further." Prowl frowned. "Now is the time for sneaky, powerful people to be either overconfident or paranoid, and there is still a chance my prediction is wrong."

"But you don't believe that." Jazz knew Prowl way too well by now.

Prowl shook his head. "No, lover, I don't."

"Sorry, love, but this is one time I hope you're wrong."

Prowl tucked Jazz close. "So do I."

Prowl was not, of course, wrong. Upheaval followed the death of the Prime, culminating in the initiation of the Clampdown. The order, splashed over every media outlet and interrupting every broadcast, came late in the evening, the result of a specially called session of the Senate. Since the death of the Prime, they had each kept a newsfeed running continuously in the corner of their HUD and saw it at the same time, even though they weren't together. Prowl had been downstairs while Jazz had been practicing in the bedroom and came straight to him once the announcement finished. Jazz got up and met him halfway at the top of the stairs.

"You saw," Jazz said, and it wasn't a question.

"I saw. Planet-wide curfew and surveillance," Prowl said softly, as they took each other's hands. "That's just the beginning, I've no doubt."

"They're starting off with restricting travel and doing random serial code checks. What're we going to do?" Jazz asked.

It would be a lot harder for some aspects of their business if they had to work around the new rules, especially for Prowl, who handled things like surveillance. Even if they could get some kind of license or dispensation under whatever new regulations came their way, there was no way it wouldn't be expensive, at best, and that wasn't an expense Jazz had thought he'd have to factor in. Plus, it would only bring attention to them and Jazz didn't want the authorities to have a reason to pay attention to Prowl. Sure, Prowl lived a quiet, law-abiding life now and had the finest counterfeit background shanix could buy, but there was _always_ a risk.

"We comply as best we can, for now," Prowl replied. "At least on the surface."

"Mm. Want me to go back into the Senate's servers, see what I can find?" Jazz didn't like the idea, but things were getting worse, and it wasn't just about him.

"Yes, but only if you can reduce the risk factor even further," Prowl told him. "Obviously, Creator would never accept an assignment on you, but she is not the only tool at her handlers' disposal, and there may be some of them that do not respect my protection of you." Prowl cupped Jazz's face in one hand, his optics dark and serious. "I will kill anyone who so much as _tries_ to harm you, but revenge would be cold comfort for your loss, my darling."

Jazz put a hand over Prowl's, resting on his cheek, turned his face into the palm and kissed it.

"We'd better make sure you don't lose me, then, love," Jazz said. "Can I bring Red Alert in on this, see if he can beef up the security before I go back in?"

"Yes," Prowl said thoughtfully after a few nano-kliks. "If anyone can virtually assure your safety, it would be Red Alert."

"Okay, then." Jazz kissed Prowl's palm again. "I'll bring in Red Alert and get him to make everything so secure I can barely use it before I do anything else. Alright?"

"Yes, that should be enough, though I'd like to check it over and be sure before you use it." Prowl's thumb stroked gently over Jazz's cheek plate. "But, if there is any indication of danger to you, however small, I want you to stop investigating immediately."

"I promise," Jazz reassured him. "I'm not gonna leave you, sweetspark, no way. But, I do have to ask…what if none of that works?"

"I've calculated that the most likely scenario requires us to eventually choose between Autobot and Decepticon factions," Prowl said, "and Smokescreen concurs."

"Prowl?" Jazz loved Prowl dearly, but he honestly could not see Prowl voluntarily joining a faction or anything else where he'd have to follow anyone's rules but his own.

"A civil war is almost a certainty at this point. The Senate is likely to try and further increase their power only to succeed in inciting further unrest." Prowl looked distinctly unhappy. "I'm uncertain of what, if anything, could be – _would_ be done, is perhaps the better word choice. It would require compromise on all sides, however, and some more than others and I don't believe any of the parties which could affect the current outcomes more positively are willing to do so. We would eventually need to join a faction for protection, security, and fuel if nothing else."

"Primus," Jazz rubbed his hands over his face. "I can't – even if we wind up with a new Prime?"

"That would require a Matrix-selected Prime," Prowl answered. "I don't believe there will be one. The Senate is corrupt and has gained almost complete control over Cybertron. They will not relinquish it while they live, I'm afraid."

Jazz sighed and leaned into Prowl's arms. This was just too much to deal with right now, all at once. "Just – just tell me it can't last forever."

"It can't. It won't," Prowl promise, hugging Jazz close. "Whatever happens, we will face it together."

"I love you, Prowler."

Prowl rested his cheek against the side of Jazz's helm. "And I love you, my Jazz. No matter what comes, it comes against the two of us together."

"Yeah, yeah, it does." Jazz kissed him gently, and then they sought reassurance in each other while, outside, the streets began to empty for the curfew.


End file.
